The Window
by MBScavenger1498
Summary: A repository for my SNK one-shot ideas, both comedic and serious.
1. Break Room Shipping

Break Room Shipping

In the infinite void between fictional worlds, down the inter-dimensional street from Hammerspace and across from a potted plant thinking "Oh, not again," there is a world where all characters go to recover, and relax; a place where they can be themselves, without the pretensions of grand tragedy and plot points. For the characters of Shingeki no Kyojin, it's a welcome reprieve.

-B-

"I just don't understand where they're getting these ideas!" Armin absently flipped to the next page of his script, reclining lazily in his lounge chair as Eren paced angrily in front of him.

"Eren, you knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to be the main character. The contract said 'The undersigned hereby disavows any right to compensation in the inevitable event that they are shipped with literally every other character.' What did you expect?" His green-eyed friend looked at the floor sheepishly.

"Well, I, uh… I mean, I might not exactly have really, well, read that, per se…" Armin's calm, somewhat judgmental gaze bored into him and he promptly fell back on defensive anger.

"I didn't think it would be this bad! You know that there's art on the Internet of Ymir and I fucking? Where the hell did they pull that relationship from, huh? When were we ever shown interacting before I was captured?" The blonde finally did something that vaguely resembled sitting up.

"That's your problem, Eren: you expect them to be rational. They're sexually repressed teenagers and college students. Once again: what did you expect?"

Mikasa chose that moment to walk into the break room, nursing a steaming cup of coffee and looking as though she'd just run a marathon, or whatever distance she'd have to run to look absolutely trashed. Honestly, just about everyone was sort of unclear on the question of her physical capabilities. Regardless, she had bags under her eyes, her shirt was untucked, and her jacket was nowhere to be seen.

"Wow, what happened to you?" She sat down in the chair across from Armin and put her cup down on the small table between them, leaning back with an angry sigh.

"Nothing. Just been a long day. What are you talking about?" Armin turned back to his script.

"Eren's complaining about shipping again." The young Ackerman gritted her teeth and turned her gaze on her brother.

"Oh don't you even start! At least when people pair _you_ off with Levi it isn't an incest ship!" Armin glanced up and raised a correcting finger.

"Well, actually, that whole situation is kind of unclear…" Mikasa turned her furious gaze on him.

"No! Don't you give me that! We have the same hair, the same eyes and the same goddamn Charles Atlas Superpower! We even have the same last name!" Eren promptly jumped on the righteous anger train, though he turned his frustration on Mikasa.

"What, you think_ I_ like being paired up with a man twice my age and half my height any more than you do? I mean, sure, I respect the fuck out of him, but dear god, no!"

"Oy! Shitty brats!" Their eyes snapped to the entrance, and found their diminutive superior, wearing his casual clothes for once. "No discussing me and shipping in the goddamn break room, that's my happy place!" Levi made sure to meet every pair of their eyes before turning on the spot and stalking away from the open doorway, muttering angrily to himself.

As though in surrender, Eren fell back into a third chair and looked up at the ceiling. "Why can't people just accept that I'm vengeful to the point of asexuality? Everything would be so much simpler!" Mikasa took a thoughtful sip of her coffee.

"Eren, have you been talking to Sasuke again?" He looked at the wall.

"Nooooo…" Armin put down his script with a resigned sigh and smiled sadly at his friend.

"Eren, you know that he gave in and had a kid in the epilogue, right? You can't be a stoic character forever. The fandom overlords demand romance, and Ymir and Krista don't provide enough drama to satisfy them. You, on the other hand…"

Eren looked across the table at the blonde suspiciously. "I what?" Armin smiled nervously, not sure if the brunette was joking.

"Well, you know, people are always up for a good love triangle, and I mean, what with Annie and Mikasa…" Eren's expression lost some confusion.

"Actually, I'd been meaning to ask about that. I saw the fanart, but I was under the impression Ackerhardt was a crack-ship, so how is it a love triangle if she's not going for Annie?" Armin looked back and forth between his two best friends, openmouthed and disbelieving. After a good half a minute of uncomfortable silence, he finally settled on Mikasa.

"Does he seriously not understand?" She shook her head and took a rather aggressive sip of her coffee. Eren frowned.

"You know, it's really annoying when you guys just go off into your own conversations like that." Mikasa fingered her scarf in an effort to hold herself back from saying and/or doing some very unfortunate things. Armin still just looked disbelieving.

"What, has he not read the parody manga, or like, any of the actual story?" She pulled the red cloth up to hide her frown.

"I don't think he's read the parody, but he's definitely read the manga. And watched the anime." Eren gritted his teeth.

"God dammit, guys, stop talking like I'm not right here! Also, who the hell _has_ read the parody? It's a goddamn slice of life middle school AU! That's basically a high school AU except with even less potential for anything interesting to happen!" Suddenly, Mikasa's eyes narrowed and she turned to face Eren, slowly.

"Wait, back up. You're going for Annie?" Her brother shrugged, not noticing the pure death being stared his way in the slightest.

"Eh, there's a goodly amount of stuff in the manga to support it. Doesn't mean it's gonna happen, though. She kind of killed my squad in front of me, and I mean, you guys seem to think Ackerhardt is canon now." He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling.

"It's not!" Mikasa's response was rushed and a bit too loud, but Eren remained utterly oblivious to its meaning.

"Either way, Armin's got it lucky. Barely three ships that actually have decently large fanbases and all of them are plausible! Well, except with me, but honestly that one was just inevitable." The blonde raised an eyebrow, frowning contemplatively.

"You know, I was wondering, when did Krista and I interact…? Like ever, before this most recent arc? The only reason that's a thing is because we're both blondes. At least Aruannie has some conversation behind it." Eren muttered something about him still having it better, but didn't press the matter.

"Look, arguing over who has the most insane chunk of the fandom is going to go nowhere. Can we all just agree that shipping is really weird and leave it at that?"

Armin shrugged and picked his script back up, but Eren just snorted. "I still say I've got it the worst out of everyone. I wouldn't be surprised if someone was already writing something horrible with me and Kenny…" It took him a moment, but his eyes gradually slid to the side and gazed directly toward a large, transparent wall with the number four in bright red paint in its center. He could see the huddled dark figures on the other side, fingers already poised over their keyboards. His glare was tinged with the slightest bit of terror as he realized his own mistake.

"Oh god no."

**So… Not entirely sure where this came from. Honestly, the fandom for SNK isn't all that bad, but that isn't saying much on the sliding scale of insanity.**

**Anyway, I'm thinking this'll be a repository for my SNK one-shots from now on. Most will probably be comedic in this sort of vein. Leave a review; tell me what you think!**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Scavenger**


	2. After the Fact

**So, this particular idea came to me after watching the fanmade Power Rangers short film that hit the Internet recently. I don't know why interrogations are so fun to write; the character interaction involved just intrigues me.**

**There are mentions of past Ereannie here and a lot of offscreen character death, so if that isn't your cup of tea, you've been warned.**

"Well, well, well…" The cuffs are cold and tight on her wrists; she can barely move her arms. The chair is similarly unforgiving metal. But all of that amounts to Playdoh in comparison to the man across from her. His scarred face is different from what she remembers. The deaths he has witnessed have burned away the selfishness in his eyes. "You know, for the longest time, I was sure that someday it'd be _you_ sitting at a table interrogating _me_. Funny how probability fucks up sometimes." She doesn't fill the pointed silence he leaves. She doesn't feel the need to. She doesn't owe him a single thing.

"Well, you never _were_ one for conversation." He leans forward, his eyes shadowed by his dark brown hair, gleaming with challenge and accusation. "But monologue, _that_ you had the fucking gift for. So if you could do your word-vomit thing, it'd be appreciated."

"Go fuck yourself." The words tumble out before she really knows it. Almost a day she's been in this makeshift cell with nothing to do but sit, pace, and think. Now, she finally has one of the people she hates most in front of her. The release provided by even those few small words is awe-inspiring.

"Oh my, what would your dear old dad say?" The sarcasm rolling off of the soldier is palpable, and for a second she can see an echo of whatever Jean Kirstein once was. Annie grits her teeth behind her lips, eyes narrowed. She has to control herself. "Eh, probably best we don't know. Old man Leonhardt always _was_ judgmental. I doubt he would have appreciated the whole 'selling humanity out to space monsters' thing."

"You mean the humanity that conscripted us into a special ops unit when we were barely fifteen?" Jean raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair.

"We were attacked out of nowhere by a vastly superior enemy. I'd say we had a big fucking hill of moral leeway, especially over someone like you." She doesn't have a response and quite frankly shouldn't have needed one in the first place. The silence stretches on for a few seconds.

"I've been wondering for a long time, you know. You turned everything over to them. Mikasa, Marco, every one of our friends dead or as good as, and yet somehow you walked away scot-free. What did they promise you, Leonhardt?" Annie locks eyes with the man, and lies.

"What do you think? I figured I should come out on the winning side." His eyes narrow, and his fist comes down just a bit too hard on the table, standing up so suddenly that his chair is sent toppling backward.

"_Bullshit!_ Your little life was never that important to you, it was always mission this, or all costs that. They had _something_ to hold over you."

"Oh come on, Jean, I knew you. If there's one thing you should understand, it's putting your own wellbeing first. Last I checked, selfishness came as naturally to you as breathing." He's gritting his teeth, gaze burning into her.

"I watched my best friends die trying to save the world from the monsters you let through. I needed a reason to live. Just doing it wasn't enough anymore." He grinned at her and she almost shivered. It was a ghostly, dead sort of expression. "Still, I can't imagine you just giving up. So what exactly changed your mind?"

"We were losing." The soft, matter-of-fact statement hangs in the air for a few seconds, and she can see the smoldering anger in his eyes, the long-restrained vengeful fury just below the surface. She doesn't know why she's even telling him this. She should stop. "Dad and Bertolt died taking the Colossus out of the sky, and then Reiner cracked. No matter what we did, there were thousands dying every day. We couldn't win, we never could have."

"So you just decided to cut your losses and give them the one thing they wanted? Just hand him over?" Her eyes flash; he's finally struck the right nerve.

"Don't you talk about him like a fucking bargaining chip. I saved the last person I gave a shit about, saved the entire human race in the process. If the others had to die to make that happen, then so be it."

"So that was it." And he's smiling now, even worse than he was before. It's a terrifying mockery of something real, so entirely wrong that she can't make herself look away. "Humanity fights a losing war, millions sacrifice their lives for the cause, and all of it turns out for nothing, because some teenage girl couldn't keep it in her pants." And he laughs. Jean Kirstein laughs and it's the single most broken sound she's ever heard.

It hits her just how long this man has been fighting. It's been just over a decade since Maria Outpost went dark. Six years later, the second Colossus arrived in the night sky, all thanks to her. The war ended that night, for everyone.

But this man didn't get the message and doesn't seem likely to ever do so, no matter how many years he has fought. In his own, strange way, he's stronger than her, stronger maybe than Eren. But everyone has limits, and it seems he's reached one.

"So what was your grand master plan, eh? Pull him off to some private island and fuck over the corpses of your dead comrades?"

She glares back, holding on to the last shreds of self-control. "They would have blown us all out of the sky if I hadn't let them in. I did what was necessary." The smile is no more natural looking for its incredulity. In fact, it only seems be getting worse and worse: less focused.

"And delivered us handily into the arms of slavery and slow, torturous death! What, you thought he would understand? That he wouldn't hate you for forcing us to surrender? You thought Eren Jaeger, the Suicidal Bastard, would thank you for spitting on every goddamn ideal he had?" The laughter is back, and she begins to wonder what barrier she's broken in him. What has he lost now? Her own questions help distract her from whatever his are dredging up.

"I wish I could have been there for that conversation. Would have probably been the single most hilarious thing I've ever seen."

_He's not quite angry yet, but he's confused and when he finally understands, the betrayal is far too real for her to ignore. She doesn't think she's ever seen him yell this loudly._

She looks down at her restrained legs and frowns. "With your sense of humor, probably."

"Well, guess what, fuck-face? You can fix all of that right now if you just tell me how to get to him." He seems to have most of his composure back; the smile is gone, but his gaze is less steady, manic almost. "I've found our answer, Leonhardt, the way we can still win. And all I need now is Eren. Tell me where he is."

"Bullshit." But she can't quite bring herself to follow her words. There are a million ways to misuse Eren's abilities, but if Jean knows a way to singlehandedly take back the planet with them, it's something grand and terrifying. No victory will be anything but pyrrhic.

Eren wouldn't care. He hadn't before, and he wouldn't now. And no matter how much she tells herself that he's better off safely locked away, she can't remove the hollowness from that truth. _'He wouldn't care about his safety. He never did.'_

"You and I both know that Eren's powers can't be controlled. How many innocent people will die for your idiotic idealism?" He glares down at her, eyes full of more hatred than she can truly fathom.

"Mass murder is _your_ kink, Annie. If I was crazy enough to just loose him on the Titans, I would have done it years ago." He's right, right about everything, and in the space of a few moments, her web of justifications crumbles to dust.

She's failed him, and even weighed against the lives of ever person on the planet, to carry on doing so is too much to ask. Mina, her father, Bertolt, Reiner, every innocent person she watched die because she wasn't good enough. Eren is the last one standing.

Even if it is belatedly, she can't let him down too. She can't raise her head, can't open her eyes; can't do much of anything except utter the words.

"They've got him at the South Pole Detention Facility, lower levels, cell 825." She can't tell if Jean is smiling, but his voice has regained its natural sarcasm, so she assumes he isn't. It feels right, in a detached sort of way.

"Thank you." And maybe it's just fanciful thinking, but she thinks she can detect some genuine contentment in the pronouncement. She feels the cold touch of metal against her head, the unyielding pressure of the barrel on her scalp.

"I'll see you in Hell, Leonhardt."

She doesn't have time to enjoy it, but for the first moment in eight years, she feels free.


	3. Scripts

**After the midnight-written, depressing craziness that was last chapter, I figured I'd do something humorous again. It's short, but I like how it turned out.**

**Also, I'd like to mention that I actually kind of like the parody manga, it's just ridiculously easy to make fun of.**

The life of a fictional character is almost never a smooth ride. They exist as a supremely multifaceted entity, being pushed and pulled by how they are perceived. Or at least, they wish they did. Some things are simply too far removed to be adapted too…

-B-

Reiner looks down at the beautiful girl before him, and as he takes in just how ridiculously amazing she is, his mind grinds to a halt. Her long blonde hair is being picked up just slightly by the wind, and her pure blue eyes reflect the sun like the crystals that technically don't exist for him right now. After months of waiting, he's finally worked up the courage to ask Christa out. What he hadn't counted on was the audience.

"Well, Reiner, I uh, well, I'm very flattered, and you're probably one of the nicest people I've known, but you see, I, uh…" She's beating around the bush and he almost wishes she would just reject him flat out; it would make things quicker, if not easier. Ymir, of course, is no help at all.

"What she's trying to say is she's a lesbian and therefore not about to go out with you." The taller girl leans over and ruffles Christa's hair amusedly. Reiner doesn't really know how to respond, so he goes with what comes naturally.

"Ah, well, I, ah, I see. I'll just, uh, see you around then. Have a nice day." He's about to walk away when he hears the blaring, megaphone-enhanced screech of the director.

**"Cut! Fucking cut! Reiner, what the hell was that supposed to be?"** The fan is abruptly turned off and Historia's blonde locks drift back to their natural position on her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow at him, which might mean concern, or consternation; he honestly can't tell these days. Ymir is for once easier to read, rolling her eyes and slapping her forehead.

Eren stalks up to him now, angry and still holding the amplifying tool in front of his mouth, as though he couldn't already shout loud enough. It doesn't make for a happy experience, and Reiner notices in his peripheral vision that Ymir has already taken Historia well out of range. By the time the irate brunette reaches his taller blonde actor, his voice is positively deafening.

**"It's in the damn script, man, you're the token homophobe; you have to act like it!"** Reiner claps his hands to his ears and grimaces.

"Eren, put down the damn megaphone, you're going to burst my eardrums!" He complies, though his scowl shows that he does so grudgingly.

"It's not that hard to play a contrived villain in a high school AU. What's up?" The blonde looks away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's just I can't ever imagine saying what they've got in the script. I mean, me, calling someone gay like it's a bad thing? As far as the fandom seems to think, I'm the second gayest character in this series!" Eren rubs his nose wearily and meets his actor's eyes, frowning.

"Look, dude, it's a fanfiction. If you go in expecting people to be in character, or for the plot to exist, or even for actions to follow basic logic, you're probably in for a royal disappointment." He gathers himself, rubbing his eyes for a moment before letting a bit of his signature righteous anger seep out. "Wait, actually, think of it this way: if you can pretend to commit genocide, then you can pretend to be a goddamn bigot. Now get your shit together, and do your damn job." The rogue turns smartly on his heel and marches back to his chair. **"Alright, people, take five, then we start from the top!"**

Reiner sighs and collects his features into the angriest scowl he can manage. _'Just make it through this one, man. It can't be long before someone pairs you up with her.'_

-B-

It is in a spacious (and, the narrator would like to mention, very tastefully decorated) break room, that we come upon two teenagers of female biology and persuasion, reclining in comfortable chairs.

The shorter of the two is reading, more out of boredom than anything else, lying sideways across the armrests of her seat, while the other is quietly sipping a hot drink and trying to relax in one of her increasingly rare moment of downtime. It's with just the slightest hint of unsurprised bitterness that she is unceremoniously interrupted. _'I thought she was supposed to be quiet.'_

"'Annie blushes cutely and puts her hands on her clothes, trying to hide herself better…?' Ackerman, what the fuck is this?" Mikasa looks coolly at her rival, swallowing a sip of coffee and putting her cup down on the table before answering.

"It's the script for the parody manga. _My script_, actually." She stands quickly and leans over the table to snatch it, but Annie pulls it out of the way of her hands.

"What the fuck did they do to me?" She's flipping through the pages now, eyes narrowing dangerously as she reads. "I'm not even in the competition? Why the fuck am I a cheerleader? And why are they using a middle-schooler for fanservice? Just, why to all of this?"

Mikasa steps over the coffee table to grab the document, but Annie pushes off over the back of her chair and somehow manages to land crouched behind it, still reading. "Oh, they nailed you though, Ackerman; utterly humorless and creepily obsessive, like always." Mikasa doesn't bother to be gentle with the chair as she flings it out of the way one-handed, and tackles Annie to the ground, trying to pry the papers out of her grip without ripping them.

"At least I'm not a genocidal tsundere! Unlike you I haven't been on a bus for the past three years!" Annie deflects a grab at the script only to feel fingers close around her shirt. She wriggles and kicks at Mikasa's head, trying to keep her off until she can get to her feet. Tanking a kick to the shoulder like the vaguely explained superhuman she is, Mikasa finally manages to pin her opponent down, straddling her and throwing the script across the room. But she doesn't have time to revel in the victory. Hinges creak behind them, and their eyes snap to the newcomer, who stands dumbfounded in the doorway.

"Holy shit, it _is_ canon!" Eren points at them dramatically, eyes wide as he makes the declaration. Ironically enough, Annie blushes cutely as she pushes her rival off and stands, adjusting her rumpled clothes. Eren grins awkwardly, bringing his hand down as Mikasa stands up, raising an eyebrow.

No amount of cuteness or regenerative power can keep Eren out of the infirmary for the next week, but he can't bring himself to care. Having an excuse to bring that joke back was more than worth the beating.


End file.
